


Home Remedy For a Broken Heart

by cissues



Series: Punker Than You [1]
Category: Homestuck
Genre: AU, Blow Jobs, Cussing, Humanstuck, M/M, Punkstuck, Recreational Drug Use, alchohol
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2012-09-17
Updated: 2012-09-17
Packaged: 2017-11-14 10:50:26
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,012
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/514453
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/cissues/pseuds/cissues
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>All you need is a bottle of cheap rum, decent company, and really good head.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Home Remedy For a Broken Heart

**Author's Note:**

> So, this is the beginning of my "Punkstuck" series. It's basically a self indulgent collection of fics based in one of two punk houses, "The Hive" or "The Soup Bowl". I've been involved in the punk scene for a while so I've kind of based the character designs on people I actually know. Definitely some of my favourite things I've written.

The house was beating like a heart.

A few souls lingered above the basement, legs hugging a ridiculously sized bong or a bottle of this or that, but most of the fifty or so occupants of The Hive that evening were in the basement pumping their fists, slamming into each other’s bodies to the music that was barely more than noise.

You sit on the couch, not really caring much for the music that threatened to deafen those downstairs. You have your head in your hands and you definitely weren’t crying. Definitely not because you’d just been rejected yet again by your one true fuckin’ love. You run your long fingers through your purple-streaked hair, shuddering as you wipe tears from your eyes and glance around at the drunk and/or high attendees of tonight’s shindig who didn’t seem to care at all that there was some guy breaking down with no booze or weed to dull whatever pain he was in.

Your name is Eridan Ampora and you’re a part-time resident of The Hive, but not for any fair reason. Honestly, you should have the biggest fuckin’ room in the damn house due to your generous donation that practically paid for the place, but no one really likes you so you were kicked out. Now you sleep on a couch whenever you can grab one before any of the other guests and honestly it really fucking sucks because it’s not like you don’t know that everyone hates you but kicking you out of your own fucking house (practically) was a low blow.

Someone nudged your shoulder and you smell the overwhelming stench of weed. You take the blunt without looking at the offerer and take a long drag. This is your fuckin’ house. You should be given a share of all the weed!  
The stranger with the blunt takes it back and goes to pass it to some other lonely chump, leaving your manic depressive, newly rejected ass with half a buzz and an even worse feeling in your gut.

“Fuck, Eridan, if you’re just going to sit there you might as well make yourself fucking useful.” The unignorable lisp of Sollux fuckin’ Captor broke through the depressed haze that hung over you like a cloud.  
It’s odd because, no matter how much that dandy fuck acts like he hates you, he’s offered you his couch to sleep on on multiple occasions and he’s about the only one who will pay attention when the depression is at an ultimate low.

“Oh, shit... what happened this time?” Sollux walked across the room with swinging hips and a genuinely concerned expression obscured by huge prescription glasses. You honestly had the hugest, weirdest crush on Sollux. The man was about the only person in this fucking house that gave more than a shit about you and honestly, it’s a charming quality to have when you’re a manic depressive and no one seems to like you.

“Fef--” You begin, but you’re quickly interrupted by a heavy sigh. “Dude, why do you keep going after her? She’s a prissy bitch who you obviously can’t handle and, honestly, she’s too good for you. You don’t deserve her mind games.” He’s got his lips pressed together in a straight line, but you can see the concern. You swallow thickly, averting your eyes as you contemplate what you’re about to say.  
“Can I stay with you again? I don’t want to be al--”  
“Yeah.”  
The response is immediate. Sollux’s expression is now openly concerned and he awkwardly scoots closer to pull you into this embrace that feels so nice you have to return it, squeezing him even closer to you. “Thanks.” You mumble against his shoulder and he’s rubbing your back subtly, his own face pressing against your neck. “I just don’t want you to do something stupid... again.” He murmurs, lifting away from you. “And you know you’re more than welcome whenever things get really fucking bad, right? I’ll be right there with vodka and bud and one of Karkat’s awful fucking flicks. Yeah?” He still has a hand on your shoulder and you nod with a grateful smile. “Yeah, thanks buddy.”  
“Don’t fucking call me ‘buddy’, shitdick.” He murmurs, but a smile is there and you can see his uneven teeth under his lips. “Fine, mate.” You fix it, relishing in the contact that’s still there and you’re smiling, too.  
Fuck him for being the only person who can do that.

For the rest of the night you tail Sollux like a puppy. He doesn’t say anything about it even as he’s chatting up this kid with a shaved head and horn implants and trying to help Tavros with refreshing the refreshments. Finally, you both climb upstairs at around four in the morning and he deflects the inevitable questions about you, saying you bullied him into it or you can’t drive home or whatever other bullshit he feels like he’s pressured into lying about because he’s just doing it out of the goodness of his heart.  
You don’t blame him, if people knew that he liked you, even if it was just pity, he’d get incessantly teased and you know he moved here to get away from that, specifically.

In his room, a subtle wave of warmth washes over you as you look around at the Doctor Who, Firefly, Star Trek and similarly nerdy paraphernalia that litters his walls and every flat surface. He grunts and gestures towards the couch that he’s invested in for you (by invested, you know he means that he mooched it from another punk house or haggled it out of a thrift store) but it’s comfortable and you’re just grateful that someone made that much of an effort.

You plop down and right before you’re about to get to sleep, he procures a bottle of cheap rum that is probably one of many. He may be piss poor, but there is no way Bud Light is passing his lips. He pours each of you a (hopefully) clean mug and hands you one before you two toast and down it. “You seriously need to give Feferi a rest.” He murmurs, looking at his cup with interest.

Holding down a dramatic sigh, you fall back against the sofa. “Yeah. I really thought she was the one for me, though.” You know you sound pathetic, but this is Sollux and he knows perfectly well that you’re pathetic.  
“Dude, you guys dated for like two goddamn weeks and she treated you like shit the entire time. You just need to find someone that understands that you’re really fucked up and can’t be treated that way. Like try to have some fucking, I dunno, sense when you date someone, I guess.” He put his mug down and just took a huge goddamn swig straight from the bottle before handing it to you.  
“I know... it’s like a curse. I never choose the thing that’s actually good for me. It’s like I’m a chronic fuck up or somethi--”  
“Ed, you are not a fuck up.” Sollux sits down across from you on the couch, facing you with a serious look on his face.  
“Look at me. You are not -- hey, no, seriously fucking look at me.” He snaps his fingers in front of your face, effectively getting you to stop staring at your knee.  
“You are not a fuck up.” He lifts a brow before snatching the bottle from your hands, taking another huge gulp. “If anything, you’re just confused.” He hands you back the bottle.

Knitting your eyebrows together, you try to figure out what’s going on in his funny little head, with his half-blue-half-red dyed hair and differently coloured eyes. You take a drink from the bottle, then another, then you put it on the floor and place your hand on his blushed cheek, watching the confused look spread over his face before it’s obscured by your own and you’re kissing him and sometimes you wonder why you’re such a fucking dumbass because he’s pushing you away.

Wait, nevermind, he’s pushing you on your back and then climbing on top of you and straddling your waist and leaning down to chomp down on your neck. You remember at one point mentioning that you’re particularly sensitive there while ranting on and on about Feferi and you’re shocked he remembered or was even listening then suddenly your hands are above your head and you can’t really move them but he’s kissing you again and that’s okay.

He’s grinding into you and you’re suddenly really aware of everything, that the only person that’s ever actually cared in any way shape or form is kissing you and passionately and you have an angry red mark on your neck and it feels really nice and wow someone actually likes you.

You feel your shirt being lifted up over your head and draped respectfully over the arm of the couch and when you open your eyes you see Sollux wiggling out of one of his three shirts. First comes the sweater, then the button-down, then the t-shirt. He’s down to nothing but those designer pants and you have to stop for a moment and breathe because he’s actually fuckin’ gorgeous.

He looks uncertain for a moment, arms wrapped around his chest. He’s so thin and as you run your fingers along his exposed ribs you can’t help but kiss them. You pull away his arms and start to kiss his stomach, hands splayed on his back and chest. As you start to descend he stops you, that uncertain look back. “Sorry, but I’m the one consoling you.” He murmurs and you have never been more turned on from a speech impediment. He ushers you to scoot back so he can nestle inbetween your legs. Suddenly, you realise where this is going. You realise very very quickly because your pants and trousers are being shimmied down your hips and you laugh nervously as they’re thrown to the floor and a mouth is on your stomach, nipping and licking.

You lift your hand to bite down on as a hand gently palms your balls and you’ve temporarily forgotten where you were, then you notice David Tennant’s smug face smirking at you from across the room and you know you’re in trouble. Noises escape your throat that you’re not sure you’ve ever made before and Sollux’s mouth is descending and you have to cover your own to quiet the moan that the action elicited. With his lips around your cock you can hear and feel the bastard chuckling, so you thrust your hips towards him just a bit, just to get him to shut up. He makes a surprised noise before finally getting on with it, but you’re sure you can feel a smile on his lips.

He wraps a hand around the base of your cock and pumps; he’s surprisingly good at this (you’re not sure why it surprises you). It takes you an embarrassingly short amount of time before you’re clutching at whatever you can reach and hissing out a warning. When you finally cum, Sol having removed his mouth and moved out of the line of fire, you fall back, breathing hard.  
“Feel better?” The other man asks, condescension edging his voice. You shoot him a look as you nod, too tired to bicker. “Thank you.” You awkwardly respond. You rest a hand on his neck and guide him up towards your mouth so you can kiss him deeply. He pulls away, smiling. “Go to sleep, dork.” He strokes your cheek for a moment before pulling himself up and over to his own bed. “And use an undershirt from the dirty clothes pile.” He says as an afterthought.

After wiping yourself off effectively, you walk over to Sollux’s bed, standing at the edge of it for a moment. He makes an irritated noise but scoots over to make room for you. As the both of you drift off, you feel a hand slip into yours and you can’t help but feel happy.


End file.
